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Tifaholic
- Last Seen: 4 mos ago
- Old Guild Username: Tasuke
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
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- Tasuke 10 yrs ago
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@Wayward About a week. Or less. Depending.
I'm going over some sheets today.
I know you only make these tournaments as a means to draw me out.
You may consider it a mission accomplished.
I shall enter this.
Minali.
A city of glitz and glamour; festivity and fanfare.
Here denizens from every direction have flocked in a congestion of chattering cacophony to enjoy the solstice with all manner of trinkets, culinary delights and its hallmark combat tournament; the metropolis as much a melting pot of nationalities and fashions as the bubbling stews perfuming the humid, grill-smoked air with appetizing aroma. Hypnotic electric signs both plainly lettered and intricately designed beckon those with burning pockets toward their vice of choice as the myriad merchants await happily to accept their credit card swipes and stack coin.
However the heart of Minali beats to a different drum; its massive stadium packed shoulder-to-shoulder almost shaking to the indiscernible ruckus of its occupants as musicians pound to a steady pulse. Soon the trumpets join triumphantly to declare formal beginning of the event; the sudden hush of spectators is filled with metallic medley of cymbals and chimes to craft a charming concerto complete with the crowd's roaring cheer. Only when its deafening din dims do the speakers shout with a man's sensational speech.
"Welcome one and all to Great Tournament V, Minali's fifth annual contest featuring the galaxy's greatest as they fight for pride, glory more riches than most will spend in a lifetime!"
The crowds comes alive like animals famished for flesh and blood before falling quiet once more.
"First up, we have a lady by the name of Hisame Atsukawa of Earth; a newcomer from a planet well-known for its ability to wage war! Let's hear it for her!"
Like puppets they cheer on command and await entry along an electric guitar's welcoming riff; a wicked shred slowly sliced into silence by a terrible grinding shrill from the arena's ingress.
The nail-on-chalkboard screech drowns all other sounds as the woman enters view: an Oriental dame of elegant royal purple kimono whose long black locks frame her fetching face as the rest splits her back in a tied tail; the shriek's source seems to be the rusty, unkept katana she drags openly by the violet cordage of its unwrapped hilt while it carves a line into the ground; muted sandaled steps carry straight gait and her somber charcoal stare appears infatuated with but listless upon the polished titanium flooring; the indifferent line of her lips match the apathy she adorns like a melancholic mask.
She is the antithesis of celebration and soon takes center stage; a sore thumb whose dress cannot be more unlike the modernized wardrobe has long made hers antique. Hisame not so much as lifts her head when she stops at an appropriate place further down the will-be battlefield and her halt likewise shuts her sword up; soon the immediate, angry mutterings at her impromptu eardrum incision also slip away to renewed guitar and the announcer's return.
"That sure was a noisy entrance; let's see if her opponent is as reluctant to keep quiet! Without further ado..."
So Hisame awaits adversarial arrival; mayhap the one to at long last bestow her most coveted but elusive desire.
A city of glitz and glamour; festivity and fanfare.
Here denizens from every direction have flocked in a congestion of chattering cacophony to enjoy the solstice with all manner of trinkets, culinary delights and its hallmark combat tournament; the metropolis as much a melting pot of nationalities and fashions as the bubbling stews perfuming the humid, grill-smoked air with appetizing aroma. Hypnotic electric signs both plainly lettered and intricately designed beckon those with burning pockets toward their vice of choice as the myriad merchants await happily to accept their credit card swipes and stack coin.
However the heart of Minali beats to a different drum; its massive stadium packed shoulder-to-shoulder almost shaking to the indiscernible ruckus of its occupants as musicians pound to a steady pulse. Soon the trumpets join triumphantly to declare formal beginning of the event; the sudden hush of spectators is filled with metallic medley of cymbals and chimes to craft a charming concerto complete with the crowd's roaring cheer. Only when its deafening din dims do the speakers shout with a man's sensational speech.
"Welcome one and all to Great Tournament V, Minali's fifth annual contest featuring the galaxy's greatest as they fight for pride, glory more riches than most will spend in a lifetime!"
The crowds comes alive like animals famished for flesh and blood before falling quiet once more.
"First up, we have a lady by the name of Hisame Atsukawa of Earth; a newcomer from a planet well-known for its ability to wage war! Let's hear it for her!"
Like puppets they cheer on command and await entry along an electric guitar's welcoming riff; a wicked shred slowly sliced into silence by a terrible grinding shrill from the arena's ingress.
The nail-on-chalkboard screech drowns all other sounds as the woman enters view: an Oriental dame of elegant royal purple kimono whose long black locks frame her fetching face as the rest splits her back in a tied tail; the shriek's source seems to be the rusty, unkept katana she drags openly by the violet cordage of its unwrapped hilt while it carves a line into the ground; muted sandaled steps carry straight gait and her somber charcoal stare appears infatuated with but listless upon the polished titanium flooring; the indifferent line of her lips match the apathy she adorns like a melancholic mask.
She is the antithesis of celebration and soon takes center stage; a sore thumb whose dress cannot be more unlike the modernized wardrobe has long made hers antique. Hisame not so much as lifts her head when she stops at an appropriate place further down the will-be battlefield and her halt likewise shuts her sword up; soon the immediate, angry mutterings at her impromptu eardrum incision also slip away to renewed guitar and the announcer's return.
"That sure was a noisy entrance; let's see if her opponent is as reluctant to keep quiet! Without further ado..."
So Hisame awaits adversarial arrival; mayhap the one to at long last bestow her most coveted but elusive desire.
After becoming stable again I can write more often; I'll be working to get a post up by Sunday at the latest; also revamping the profile with many buffs and tech additions.
I am also on Discord frequently and hear you guys have a room; if I may be invited it can be shared via PM.
I am also on Discord frequently and hear you guys have a room; if I may be invited it can be shared via PM.
How jumpy the swordsman is to strike at the slightest sound; calling upon a strength which resembles spiritual energy at first glance and using it to rend the air of the empty corridor with a horde of singing razors. He'd thought his target close but in truth they are far; strolling thru the hallway six turns and many straight steps away. The metallic wail is a cry of lonely wanderlust; quite unaware of his presence until now, the force he fears reacts appropriately: searching the long-empty pyramid for the vibrant spark of life as it glitters through a void of black; a talent intrinsic to soul-seekers who feed on its essence for sustenance.
So it extends its awareness like a mist through corridors and rooms alike in a hungry hunt, following the scent of their succulent spirit until it arrives in the chamber of the underworld's king. There the focus intensifies upon him, locking on like a missile's targeting system and broadcasting emotion in the form of intense, crushing hatred; the kind of malicious sensation most feel as pressure pulling them to the ground. Yet the exceptional will stand unperturbed; their own strength keeping the knees from buckling and determination to face the darkness galvanizing resolve to near-unbreakable fortitude.
Which he will show himself to be is accented by the screech.
It screams in a painful, five second nail-on-chalkboard needle driven directly into his eardrums but kept just below the deafening decibel; carried by the instrument itself. A sound silenced as suddenly as its start but sure to return stronger soon; for now its musician walks toward the inviting, delicious beacon of light the man resonates, aching to be famished no longer.
So it extends its awareness like a mist through corridors and rooms alike in a hungry hunt, following the scent of their succulent spirit until it arrives in the chamber of the underworld's king. There the focus intensifies upon him, locking on like a missile's targeting system and broadcasting emotion in the form of intense, crushing hatred; the kind of malicious sensation most feel as pressure pulling them to the ground. Yet the exceptional will stand unperturbed; their own strength keeping the knees from buckling and determination to face the darkness galvanizing resolve to near-unbreakable fortitude.
Which he will show himself to be is accented by the screech.
It screams in a painful, five second nail-on-chalkboard needle driven directly into his eardrums but kept just below the deafening decibel; carried by the instrument itself. A sound silenced as suddenly as its start but sure to return stronger soon; for now its musician walks toward the inviting, delicious beacon of light the man resonates, aching to be famished no longer.
Deep within the bowels of a presumably derelict pyramid wanders a solitaire swordsman; purposed gait and confident swagger infer his wanderlust through cool, torch-lit corridors is not accidental but in search of a desire. The ghostly golden ambiance and burning crackle as they hang in their sconces direct his adventure through the ancient structure where the stale, dusty air whispers of forgotten rituals, battle and death. If his fancy is a treasure hunt it seems the only objections will be the clever traps lain by long gone builders and restless spirits of those killed uncleanly.
The man thinks himself safe enough to break for lunch in one of the expansive chambers where toppled pillars, skeletons and fractured stone structures convey decay; a room illuminated by standing braziers along walls decorated by playful shadows playing tag across the floor. Only the standing, empty idols of once-revered gods remain impeccable as they observe the construct's entropy with indifference. There the swordsman flourishes his blade to fashion his food, insomuch to use an arcane or intrinsic heat to satisfy his stomach's decree; there he eats with gladness and respite until resumption of the tasks which brought him to that deceptively dangerous place.
All appears normal save for his own entrance; only the quiet fills the background between sounds he makes for several minutes 'til he has nearly finished his meal. Mayhap only three bites remain when noise slithers into the room from down the previous hallway: a single faint, dragging rasp of metal somewhere distant soon hushed for many moments; assumptions it is imaginary are dispelled when it shrieks afresh, a bit louder; closer but still notably far off.
It seems he isn't the only one roaming the labyrinth today...
The man thinks himself safe enough to break for lunch in one of the expansive chambers where toppled pillars, skeletons and fractured stone structures convey decay; a room illuminated by standing braziers along walls decorated by playful shadows playing tag across the floor. Only the standing, empty idols of once-revered gods remain impeccable as they observe the construct's entropy with indifference. There the swordsman flourishes his blade to fashion his food, insomuch to use an arcane or intrinsic heat to satisfy his stomach's decree; there he eats with gladness and respite until resumption of the tasks which brought him to that deceptively dangerous place.
All appears normal save for his own entrance; only the quiet fills the background between sounds he makes for several minutes 'til he has nearly finished his meal. Mayhap only three bites remain when noise slithers into the room from down the previous hallway: a single faint, dragging rasp of metal somewhere distant soon hushed for many moments; assumptions it is imaginary are dispelled when it shrieks afresh, a bit louder; closer but still notably far off.
It seems he isn't the only one roaming the labyrinth today...
I'm sorry for the delay. I've been swamped with business.
The post will be up tonight.
The post will be up tonight.
Availability is after 7pm Monday-Thursday and Saturday; free Friday and Sunday.
I'll try to post tonight.
I'll try to post tonight.
I am quite pleased by your answers; however the NPC question was more geared to you. If I had her enter the tournament it doesn't feel right making her opponent my own NPC. It would also make my posts quite long and one-sided for some time. Not to mention it's not nearly as fun fighting myself as you watch; since it naturally means more work for your posts I'll leave the preference to you.
I'll look up some examples of your city description for inspiration and attempt to post tonight.
My current availability is after 8pm CST - 2am CST Saturday and Monday - Thursday. I am off Friday and Sunday and may be able to post at lunch during work or in the early morning as well.
P.S. If you come up with a comparison or can find a good image for me that'd be great; the range of city styles Bing is pulling up is... in a word: vast.
I'll look up some examples of your city description for inspiration and attempt to post tonight.
My current availability is after 8pm CST - 2am CST Saturday and Monday - Thursday. I am off Friday and Sunday and may be able to post at lunch during work or in the early morning as well.
P.S. If you come up with a comparison or can find a good image for me that'd be great; the range of city styles Bing is pulling up is... in a word: vast.
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